


make with me an early spring

by aryelee



Series: The Senpai Collection [5]
Category: Notice Me Senpai! (Video Game)
Genre: Art, Awkward Flirting, Bento Making, Cooking, Crushes, Drawing, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Synesthesia, Winter, some other chars are there too for a hot sec, viktor's only mentioned tho bc his classes are wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryelee/pseuds/aryelee
Summary: A glance at how Souma and Touya's relationship evolved over time; from the windy autumn when they meet and become friends, to the winter they traded hearts, and onwards to a sweeter spring.Or: they're idiots who fall in love and don't even notice it at first. And then they can't stop noticing.





	1. and so it begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makuramotou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makuramotou/gifts).



> a request from makuramotou! 
> 
> this was meant to be like... 2k words long lmao. anyways i'll be working on your next request after thanksgiving so keep an eye out for that!!  
> im also a fool who cant read so i totally got the bento making mixed up sorryyyy (　´_ﾉ` )

 

 

  * **They meet in the cafe when the days are just starting to get cold.**



 

 

The first thing he notices, the thing that pulls him out of his hyper-focused sketch mode, is the smell of something sweet. Touya can’t help but lift his head and close his eyes as he takes a few deep breaths, savoring the scent. The scent is a golden orange, soft in intensity and reminds him of honey. Though he prefers blue colored scents, this orange one is quickly becoming his second favorite.

Touya opens his eyes and sets his sketchbook asides; he won’t be able to focus on his sketch, the details of the leaves that brush against the window of the cafe, until he figures out where that smell in coming from.

Kouhai-chan carries cakes and teas as she carefully makes her way to the bean bag section, which she put up specifically for the colder months. She smiles at Touya brightly and mouths something at him, but he’s never been good at reading lips so he decides to wait until she can talk to him instead of taking a guess.  

As she sets down Takeru and Ryuu’s order, Touya takes another deep breath, trying to follow the smell and pin down where it’s coming from. Definitely the cafe, but is it a new menu item bought for the first time or something else?

Touya’s never been one for patience; it’s necessary as an artist, but he works on three pieces at once so he never really waits for paints to dry. 

Kouhai-chan skips over, serving tray tucked under an arm, and cheerfully slaps his shoulder.

“This is the first time you’ve gotten up since you came in!” she says, “Something get your attention? Need a drink? A snack?”

“I smelled something,” Touya answers, resisting the urge to rub his shoulder. She hits hard, even though she’s so small.

“Oh, that’s probably Souuchi! He’s in the kitchen making something for a bake sale. You can go back and see!”

Souuchi? It’s not a name he recognizes, but he doesn’t recognize most of her nicknames, besides his own. Still, Touya smiles and thanks Kouhai-chan before making his way behind the counter to the kitchen door. 

When he pushes open the, Touya is drowning in gold.

Like honey, like sunlight, it overwhelms him, surrounding him in the warmth of the scent until it seeps into his bones. Touya struggles to breathe, to take it all in. It takes a moment, then the sensation dies down enough for him to come back to himself.

What he sees: someone with red hair and an apron pulling something out of the oven.

What he sees: counters covered in ingredients, flour dusting the floor, chocolate chips scattered around between mixing bowls and containers filled with batter.

Touya takes it all in; the sunlight painting golden patches on the floor, the warmth of the kitchen, the heavenly smell, and soft voice of the boy gently humming as he lays out a tray on the counter. His fingers twitch. He wants to commit this moment to memory and immortalize it on canvas.

The boy pulls off his oven mitts.

“Hey,” Touya says, shoving his restless fingers into his pockets. 

“Oh!” the boy turns to face him; Touya’s sure he’s seen him before. Maybe a shared class? “Hey! Did you need something?”

Touya glances around the messy counters. He’s not sure how to say this in a way that isn’t weird. Maybe:“I smelled something golden and it was distracting me so I came to check it out.”? 

No way. Just go right out and mention his synesthesia? Touya would rather burn his sketchbook.

The boy cocks his head to the side, a move that’s almost as cute as curious puppies. “You smelled something golden?” he asks.

Touya sighs and realizes:  _ I said that out loud. _

“It’s nothing. What are you making? It smells amazing,” he tries instead, changing the subject in hopes that the boy won’t ask anything else.

“I’m making chocolate chip banana bread for a bake sale!” He brightens as he speaks, almost glowing, and Touya has to blink to keep from being blinded. “I’m Souma, by the way. I think we have a class together but I don’t remember your name.”

“...Touya. Is it Viktor-sensei’s class?”

“Yeah! What are we even supposed to be learning? I have no idea what that class was originally supposed to be.”

Touya can’t help but grin as he says, “I don’t know what it is to everyone else, but it’s another art class for me.”

Souma ducks his head when he laughs, eyes closed and dimples on his cheeks. Idly, Touya wonders if he could ask Souma to model for him sometime. 

When he straightens up again, he sets the timer on the oven again and begins putting in another tray carrying containers of batter. “The first batch should be cool in a few minutes,” Souma says, shooting Touya a smile, “Wanna try some and tell me how it is?”

Touya doesn’t hesitate and walk to Souma’s side and say, “I’d love to.”

 

 

 

 

  * ****Everyone loves Souma’s cooking, but no one’s ever asked to draw his food before.****



 

 

“Really?” he says, incredulously before he can stop himself, “You want to draw my food? Aren’t there better pictures online?”

Touya shrugs as he reaches into his backpack to pull out his sketchbook. “Sure there are, but I want to draw yours. Besides, I don’t like drawing from pictures much. I prefer to have the real thing with me to reference.”

Souma considers this as he melts chocolate in a ban-Marie. The club room is empty, giving him access to every counter and sink and over in the room. He’s glad the cooking club isn’t meeting today; his crush can’t be anymore obvious and they’re tease him relentlessly. 

“I mean,” he says, slowly stirring, “I can’t really stop you anyways, so do whatever.” He hopes his voice is steady and drowns out the sound of he rapid heartbeat.

There’s a stretch of silence, long enough that Souma looks up and meets Touya’s eyes, where he’s been watching him cook. Souma averts his gaze quickly and hopes he doesn’t blush too much. 

“I’ll only draw if I have your permission,” Touya says. His voice is hard; he won’t accept an argument.

Souma sighs, dropping his shoulders and turning down the heat. “If you really want to, you can. I’m fine with it even if I think my food doesn’t look that good.”

“It tastes amazing though!”

“Taste is one thing, looks are another. Like, I look pretty average, but I like to think I taste like spice.”

Touya looks him over carefully, then shakes his head. “Nah,” he says, “I’m sure you taste sweet.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say,  _ Want to check and see if you’re right?  _ in the same way he flirts with his friends for fun, but Souma would rather die than say anything like that to Touya. 

“Besides,” Touya continues, “You’re cute enough to fit the taste.”

_ Is he flirting with me?!  _ Souma think, trying not to die on the spot.  _ No way. For the sake of my sanity, it’s just wistful thinking and he’s definitely  _ **_not_ ** _ flirting with me. _

“Of course I am,” Souma says instead of crying, “I’m me. What else would I be if not cute?” This would be more familiar territory if he was with his friends, but he’s always been awkward around crushes. 

The good news is that though Souma crushes easily, they never last long. The flutter in his heart every time he sees Touya smile will fade away soon enough.

The chocolate is fully melted then, smoothly drizzling back into the pan when he lifts the spoon. Souma turns off the heat completely then heads to the fridge on the other side of the room where the mini cheesecake bites should have cooled by now. He turns back, balancing the tray in one hand when he spots Touya reaching across the counter to dip a finger onto the side of the bowl.

“Hey!” he says, grinning when Touya jerks back, guilty. “Wait until I’m done before you start stealing food.”

“Does this mean I get to steal food later?”

“You don’t have to steal, I’m  _ giving _ you food.”

Touya smiles and leans back, settling into his seat again. The moment Souma sets the tray down, Touya’s flipping to a blank page in his sketchbook. He changes in an instant, gaze becoming sharp and focused, already lost in his drawing.

Souma pulls out another tray and lines it with wax paper. He carefully leaves the cheesecake bite Touya’s drawing alone and takes the others to dip in the chocolate. With a fork, he carefully turns the bite over to coat it completely, then lifts it out and places it on the wax paper.

He quickly falls into a rhythm, coating and placing the cheesecake bites, letting his mind drift and wander. 

That day in the cafe was the first time they had a proper conversation. They’ve shared classes, passed each other in hallways, but stuck with different people. He knew of Touya, but didn’t really know him. 

And then he came into his life suddenly, following the smell of his banana bread to the cafe’s kitchen, and hasn’t left since. 

It feels surreal; suddenly Touya is smiling at him in class, greeting him, letting him ramble about a new recipe or showing little sketches he did while Viktor-sensei was rambling about his topic of the day.

(Souma still doesn’t know what they’re supposed to actually be learning, but so far they’ve covered the greatest conspiracies in Russia, the history of Chile, the best dates you can have in the modern age, and the evolution of vampires in media. He’s scared of what the tests will look like.)

Touya’s started eating lunch with him, too. Though he usually doesn’t bring lunch or eat anything, to Souma’s endless displeasure. Already he’s worried about Touya’s health and if he’s eating enough outside of school.

Of course, the one time he mentioned it, Touya said it was cute that he cared so much and Souma almost choked on his onigiri. So he hasn’t really brought it up again for his own sake. 

And here they are now: alone in the home ec classroom, quiet after school without the usual chatter of the cooking club to fill the space. Just the two of them, focused on their own arts.

“Here,” Touya says suddenly, pushing the last cheesecake bite to him. “You can finish up the batch.”

Souma almost doesn’t register the words, so deep into the rhythm of coating and placing that his hands move without conscious thought. He doesn’t miss the way Touya’s gaze lingers on his hands though, and fights to keep his hands from shaking.

He finished up by taking the tray and putting it in the fridge for the chocolate to cool and solidify. Now, with no excuse of cooking to act as a buffer between them, Souma makes his way back to Touya and ignores the stutter in his heart when Touya pushes his sketchbook over. 

“They should be done in twenty minutes,” Souma says, glancing back at the fridge to avoid looking at Touya a little longer. 

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

He pulls the sketchbook towards him to see it better; there, in grey-scale, is an almost photographic drawing of the quick little snack he made. 

“Oh my god,” Souma says, taking in every careful detail of the drawing, “This is crazy good. How did you do this in just a few minutes?”

Touya smiles and wriggles his fingers. “Practice.”

“No way practice is what let you whip out a masterpiece is a few minutes; this has got to be witchcraft!”

The laugh that bubbles out of Touya’s mouth is sweeter than the left-over chocolate they share from the ban-Marie and the cheesecake bites themselves. He’s sure it’s not a lasting crush, so Souma indulges and lets the laugh echo around his heart.

There are worse things to love, after all. Like garlic.

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****The first conversation that changes their relationship happens on a windy Friday as they leave the school.****



 

 

“Why do you treat me so differently?” Touya asks. Souma startles; though Touya has been thinking about this for a while, the sudden change of topic is surprising to Souma.

He blinks, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Touya runs a hand through his hair, frustrated as the words in his mind twist in his mouth and leave him stumbling over what he wants to say. “I mean, you’re really friendly. Anyone can see that. You talk to someone new and have them laughing in under a minute. You don’t shy away from people, you’re affectionate, and touchy, but you seem kind of cold to me. Almost distant. Did I do something?”

When he looks over to Souma, the first thing he sees in the guilt in his eyes. The second is how he hunches into himself, making himself smaller and worrying his lip between his teeth.

The ever present smile on his face is gone. Touya can’t help but feel bad.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude or--”

“You’re right,” Souma says suddenly, cutting him off. “I am treating you differently. Not because I don’t like you! But I just… get nervous.”

Out of all the explanations he could have gotten, that wasn’t one he was expecting. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me if something’s wrong and I’ll try not to do it.”

Souma shakes his head hard enough that his beanie almost falls off. “No, no! It’s nothing bad. I just get nervous because I admire you. I don’t really know why you hang out with me?”

It’s hard not be flustered by that. Touya can’t help but smile and knock his shoulder against Souma’s. He’s never thought highly of himself -- there are thousands of artists much better than him -- but Souma is one of the most sincere people he’s ever meet. It’s hard not to believe him.

“Really?” he says, “I hang out with you because I like spending time with you. I mean, we’re friends, right?”

The blush that paints Souma’s cheeks is a soft pink. “Yeah,” he mumbles, shy, “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“...Okay.” 

When Souma finally looks at him, it’s with a small smile that brings out the dimples on his cheeks. 

Touya can’t help but wonder what took him so long to meet Souma.

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****Everyone else notices first; only Kouhai-chan is the one who asks him directly.****



 

 

“So,” she says, sliding into the seat across from him, “When did you get together?”

Souma pauses and sets down his cup. “What?”

“You and Touya! When did you get together?”

He’s glad he didn’t have anymore tea in his mouth. If he did, he would have spit it out or choked on it. Still, his breath gets caught in his throat and he can’t form a coherent sentence for at least a full minute.

_ “What?!” _

A few tables away, Souma catches sight of Jean and Katsuo very clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. When Jean sees him looking, he sends Souma wink and a thumbs up. 

Whatever that means.

Souma turns back to Kouhai-chan, who looks far too pleased with herself.

“Okay,” he says, letting out a slow breath, “Tell me what you’re talking about, and why.”

She claps her hands together, delighted, and begins her tale. “Well, for the past two weeks or so, I’d been hearing the other students mention your name a lot so when I asked them about it, they told me they thought you were dating Touya! My entire class thought so and they were really excited since you two make such a cute couple!”

“I’m not--!” Souma’s voice is high pitched and panicked. “We’re not dating! We’re friends!”

“Aha,” Jean says, joining the conversation. “That’s what you think. But, as someone who has been in many relationships, I can confidently tell you that the way you two act around each other is  _ definitely  _ not platonic!”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he turns his attention to Katsuo and asks, “Any thoughts you’d like to share about this?”

Katsuo shrugs and takes a quick drink of his tea. “You flirt a lot with your friends, but it’s easy to tell that it’s just joking around, you know? But with Touya, you guys are always focused on each other. It’s like there’s no one else around.” He laughs when Kouhai-chan coos at the description. “I know, it’s like a cliche romance story.”

“We’re not--!”

“ _ Anyways, _ ” Katsuo continues, cutting off another round of Souma’s denials, “Even if you don’t think you like him, your body language says otherwise. You two constantly mirror each other and always lean closer together when talking. And I’ve heard someone in your club -- Hiroto, I think? -- talk about your crush on Touya.”

Souma takes a moment to make a mental note to replace all of Hiroto’s sugar with salt, and then hides his face in his hands as he groans.

Defeated, he says, “I thought I wasn’t that obvious.”

“It’s not just you,” Katsuo reassures, “Touya acts the same way. I’m pretty sure he has a crush on you, but you’d have to ask him.”

“I’m obviously never going to do that.”

Kouhai-chan jumps up and raises her hand. “I can ask him!” she offers, and Souma actually considers before shaking his head.

Some things he had to do himself, even if they scared him.

 

 

 

 

  * ****Things are relatively normal until Souma drops some surprising news and makes him evaluate his life.****



 

 

Touya  _ has  _ noticed how jumpy and nervous Souma suddenly became. It’s nothing like when they first started spending time together; rather than being distant, Souma’s acting like someone’s after him and he has to be ready to run away at any moment. But he also doesn’t know how to ask, so he keep quiet while giving him the cuter and funnier doodles he makes. 

Souma always smells like red lately; a muted, dull red, like that of a sunset. He knows Souma stress bakes, but he’s never known him to make anything that smelled red. Orange and yellow, yes, but never red. Sweets just don’t have a red scent on them, not like spices or soups. 

“Do you listen to gossip?” Souma asks him suddenly, as he mixes together flour and matcha powder. 

Touya pauses, then slowly changes the angle his sketchbook is at. “Not really. I tend to tune people out when I’m drawing, and I’m pretty much always drawing.”

He waits for Souma to continue, but he stays silent. He doesn’t know if he should push or not, so he keeps working on the base sketch to ink later and keeps an eye on Souma. 

Patience is not one of his virtues, and he looks to Souma more than he looks at his sketch. He can’t remember what a dolphin looks like, so Touya gives up and flips to a new page, clean and blessedly blank.

He can’t help but stare at Souma’s hands; long, elegant fingers that move easily, suited more for a piano than a kitchen. Artist hands, though his work is more edible than viewable. Lately, Touya’s gaze linger more and more at Souma’s hands. Even in Viktor-sensei’s class, he looks up from his doodles to admire his fingers as they tap against his desk, or twirl a pencil between his fingers. 

Souma cooks. Never once looks his way. This is for the best; Touya doesn’t know what he’d say if Souma saw that his sketches of food are quickly being replaced by portraits of him. 

He’s careful with this quick drawing, a simple study of Souma’s hands as they grip the bowl and hold the whisk. An outline of just a few strokes of his pencil, lightly done, then more defined shapes becoming fingers. Touya takes his time to flesh out the detail in the form of veins and knuckles.

Touya spends most of his time these days staring at Souma. So he doesn’t miss the moment when Souma sighs, steels himself, and puts the bowl down. 

“We’re dating!” he blurts out, and slams a hand over his mouth as his eyes widen in panic.

Touya flinches back and discreetly tries to shove his sketchbook away. “What?” he asks, bewildered. “You’re dating someone? Who?”

“You!”

His voice is stuck in his throat. the only thought in his head is:  _?! _

Souma drops into the chair next to him with a great sigh and messes with his red hair. “I mean,” he tries again, “Pretty much the entire school thinks we’re dating.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the only thing that comes out is: “Oh.”

At his side, Souma sinks more into his seat, bringing up his gorgeous hands to hide his face. 

“Please tell me what ‘Oh’ means,” he quietly begs. 

“I…” Touya hesitates for a moment, “Don’t know yet. Give me some time to think about this. It’s nothing bad though! Just unexpected. Um, do you know why people think we’re dating?”

“Because we’re always close together.”

That doesn’t make any sense. At least, not to him. Touya tries to think of a time when they were close together and it was anything but platonic, but he comes up blank. 

He shakes his head. “You’re affectionate and touchy, why is this a surprise?”

“I need to make the cream, you get back to drawing!” Souma all but yells, jumping from his seat to run away from the conversation. He fumbles as he grabs ingredients, the flush in his cheeks obvious under the lights of the classroom. Touya wouldn’t think that Souma is easily flustered, what with all his cuddling and declarations of love with his friends. But here he is: red cheeked, biting at his lip, fidgety and fumbling where he would usually be graceful and in control of his body. 

Touya wants to push more, figure out what they’ve been doing that screams  _ Boyfriends!  _ He wants to know what about them makes their relationship so different from any of Souma’s friendships. He wants to know how Souma feels about -- well, everything.

He picks up his sketchbook and flips to the first drawing he did of Souma’s food. Flips through it and sees how the sketches of food turn into sketches of hands, of smiles, of messy hair. Flips through and sees how much of Souma is laid out on paper; half-complete sketches, a study on his eyes, a quick drawing of him smiling with his dimples showing, so many sketches of his hands in different positions. For the past seven pages, there hasn’t been a single sketch of anything else.

Just Souma and all the things Touya can’t stop thinking about.

_ Oh god,  _ he thinks,  _ Since when did I crush this hard? _

And suddenly: Souma, in front of him, a slice of cake in hand. Touya quickly closes his sketchbook and puts it away, hoping that he didn’t see anything.

“Here,” he says, placing the cake in front of him, “Draw while I die in the corner.”

Okay. That’s… not normal, but nothing bad. Nothing going  _ “Hey, I saw all your drawings of me! Creepy much?” _ Touya tries to relax himself and pretend he hasn’t just had a revelation that’s changed his life. 

“I’d rather you die besides me.” Was that flirting? Touya can’t handle this, he has to act like he’s joking around.  I’ll feel awkward if I look up and see you crouching in a corner like a gremlin.”

Perfect.

Souma squints at him. “...Did you just call me a gremlin?”

“Maybe.”

Instead of getting mad, Souma ducks his head as laughter bubbles out of him, bright and cheerful. 

And Touya smiles and thinks:  _ maybe this crush isn’t such a bad thing after all. _

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****Confessing is hard, but so is cooking for someone who’s opinion means everything. Mixing the two was a horrible idea.****



 

 

Which is not to say that he’s  _ not  _ going to do it. 

Because he is.

Souma has made his decision last week and he plans to stick with it. Actually going through with it is another thing entirely. The idea is simple: make a bento of Touya’s favorite foods and give it to him at lunch, then confess. No one hated getting food. And if Touya doesn’t like him back, then he’ll let him down easy as thanks for the food.

There are a few problems with this plan, though.

For example:  _ What are Touya’s favorite foods? _

No one seems to know. Souma asks around, talking to people in the art club, people who have know Touya longer, and they don’t have an answer for him. He considers asking the teachers, then changes his mind because why would they know?

Souma even tries Kouhai-chan, who probably knows but doesn’t tell him because she likes to see people suffer.

“Just ask him yourself!” she suggests, as though it’s easier than preventing the apocalypse.

“But then he’ll see how much effort I put into it!”

She frowns at him. “so? Making a bento for someone else is a lot of effort. It’s not really that surprising. ”

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to hard to get him to like me.”

“You are, though.”

Souma waves his hands around. “Well, yeah, but I don’t want him to  _ know  _ that.”

“You’re hopeless,” Kouhai-chan states, “Just go ask him!” 

So there he is, drumming his fingers against his desk as Touya makes his way past the other students forming their own groups for lunch. He always has a doodle in hand that makes Souma smile, and it’s so sweet that he isn’t sure how much more his heart can physically handle. 

He’s being crushing on Touya for  _ months  _ and the smallest things still get him flustered. It would be fine if it was just getting flustered, but no; this goes well beyond any of his other crushes to the point where he’s fantasizing about walking in the snow with Touya, even though he hates the cold. 

Touya drops into the seat in front of him. “Hey,” he says with a smile.

_ Be cool,  _ Souma sternly thinks to himself before replying, “Hey. No lunch again?”

“Nope. I do have a great rendition of Viktor-sensei’s newest story, though.” He slides the paper onto the desk and opens it to reveal a cross-hatched sketch of Viktor-sensei waving around a pair of sunglasses at a group of parrots as, in the background, Caribbean governmental officials watch with horror. It’s so ridiculous and well done that Souma can’t help but laugh, shoulders shaking, as he pulls the paper closer.

“This is the best one yet,” he says when he finally catches his breath.

Touya beams, proud, and reaches over to steal a daikon slice from his bento.

“Hey,” Souma says, not giving himself time to think or chicken out, “What are your favorite foods? I realize I never asked, even though I keep making you eat what I make.”

“I don’t know,” is the answer he gets, “I’m not picky.”

“That… really doesn’t answer my question.”

Touya hums, thinking way too hard about his favorite foods. He rests his cheek against his hand and closes his eyes, giving Souma time to unabashedly appreciate how pretty he is.

Finally, he answers, “I guess things like champloo? I’m from Okinawa, you know, so I only ever get those foods at home, and even then it’s not often.”

Okinawan food? Souma can work with that.

So he spends the rest of the day shifting through all the foods he knows and researching Okinawan cuisine before he finally starts planning what to put in Touya’s bento.

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****The climax of all this happens outside on a cold January afternoon, the first day school is back in session after the holidays.****



 

 

The last snowfalls are beginning. This means that few people spend time outside, since it’s so cold. Classrooms and hallways are more crowded now, and Touya is looking forward to the spring when it starts to warm up enough that he can have more space to draw outside. 

In the meantime, everyone eats lunch inside.

So he’s more than surprised when Souma drags him outside the classroom and announces his plans to enjoy the snowfall as they eat. Touya’s hardly going to let him go alone, so he follows after grabbing his scarf from his backpack.

“What’s this about?” he asks when Souma stops at the door, peering outside with a grimace. “Don’t you hate the cold?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he replies with forced cheer, “Let’s go!”

The cold hits them immediately and Touya pulls his coat tighter around himself. Souma, though, is determined, and leads him to one of the tables outside that is under a tree and mostly sheltered from the snow. 

He eyes Souma as he shivers, glaring at the table as he tries to work up the nerve to sit down. 

“We can go to the cafe, you know,” Touya suggests, “Kouhai-chan has been telling me that it’s pretty empty during lunch since no one wants to walk out there in this weather.”

“That’s a much better idea,” Souma admits, and turns away to begin walking to the cafe.

His shivering has gotten worse. Touya can’t help but get worried that Souma’s going to get sick at this rate, so he pulls off his scarf and wraps it around Souma. It almost looks like Souma wants to say something, but he just pulls the scarf up to cover his rosy cheeks and burrows into its warmth.

_ He’s so cute,  _ Touya thinks, holding back tears.

It’s so easy to be with Souma, so natural, that he forgets about his crush sometimes. Then Souma does something like that and Touya’s bitten by the love bug again. 

Together, they speed walk to the cafe, Souma holding onto Touya’s elbow to keep from slipping. They all but burst through the doors, sighing as they’re engulfed in warmth and dusting snowflakes from their hair. 

“Welcome!” chirps Kouhai-chan. “You’re the only two to visit me today! Want a hot drink? It’s on the house!”

Souma glances at him, nervous. “Ah, yeah,” he says, “That sounds great. I could kill for some hot chocolate right now.”

“If you have any honey lemon tea left, I’ll have one of those.”

Kouhai-chan scribbles down their orders and waves at the empty cafe, telling them to grab a seat and warm up. Before she speeds away, Souma gestures to her and whispers something to her. Whatever it is, Kouhai-chan leaves with an evil little smirk on her face.

Touya wonders if there’s some sort of plot going on. Maybe he upset someone and now they want him dead?

Souma fidgets with the straps of his school bag, and doesn’t move until Touya sits down. 

“What was that about?” Touya asks, once Souma is sitting down across from him, tapping those elegant fingers against the table. 

“Nothing?” he tries, and deflates when Touya gives him a flat stare. “Alright, I just needed her to wait a bit. Just needed some privacy, you know?”

Privacy? “Do you want me to leave?” he asks, squinting at Souma, confused.

Souma shakes his head, “No, no, of course not! I kinda need you here for this.”

“Oh?”

He waits as Souma rummages around his bag, and just manages to catch Kouhai-chan peeking from the kitchen as Souma pulls out a carefully wrapped bento box.

“Here,” he says, laying it down before Touya, “It’s for you.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“I wanted to! Please?”

He can’t say no to those puppy eyes. So Touya unwraps the bento and opens it slowly. It’s still warm, and the familiar scent of home hits him first: the blue-green of the sea, the soft yellow color of the sunlight, the red of Shuri-jo all wafting out of the box. It’s almost like his grandmother’s cooking, and suddenly he’s eight years old again, catching bugs and coloring on the tatami floor of his grandparents’ house, not caring about the humid heat of summer.

And when he looks down to see what Souma’s made that could make him so nostalgic and is greeted with the sight of goya champloo, tofu tinted red with the promise of spice, carefully laid down next to gyoza. 

Souma watches him nervously as he takes a bite. He’s not much a foodie, but Souma’s champloo has him letting out a nearly indecent noise, it’s so good. Not quite the taste of home, but something similar with Souma’s touch on it.

“This is perfect,” Touya says, already taking another bite. 

Souma brightens. “Really? That’s great! I was worried I wasn’t going to get it right.”

Touya can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he says, “Please, you never mess up when you cook. And not that I’m not happy or anything, but why did you do this? This is way too nice, my doodles definitely won’t be enough to pay you back.”

“You don’t need to pay me back! That’s not why I’m doing this.”

“Then why?”

“Because,” Souma takes a deep breath, “The best way to show how I feel is through cooking. It’s how I show I care and think of you often and you make my heart go into cardiac arrest everytime you smile and I don’t ever want to leave your side. It’s my way of saying that I’m falling in love with you.”

Touya thinks he distantly hears Kouhai-chan shout,  _ ‘Yes!’ _ but his heartbeat is too loud in his ears to really be sure.

He almost thinks he’s dreaming. The cutest boy he’s ever seen, with his dimples and his marble hands and his messy hair, confessing his true feelings, saying  _ I’m falling in love with you  _ as though Touya hasn’t struggled with that thought for months. It seems too good to be true. 

But Souma is fidgeting, red-cheeked, worrying his lip between his teeth and on the verge of tears as the silence continues.

He has no painting, no masterpiece that can show how beautiful he sees Souma, so Touya does the only thing he can think of that will translate the weight of his feelings into something tangible.

He gets up, makes his way to Souma’s side of the table, and cups his cheek as he kisses him. 

The muffled noise of surprise Souma makes against his lips makes him hold on tighter, and then Souma’s grabbing his shoulders, pulling him in closer with a hungry sound. Touya pulls back to pepper light kisses all over Souma’s face, from the corner of his mouth to his dimples to his temples, as Souma giggles.

“I take it this means you feel the same way?” he asks, eyes crinkling with how big his smile his.

Touya can’t resist kissing his cheek again. “Of course. As if I could fall for anyone else.” He goes back to his seat and pushes the bento to the middle of the table. “Eat with me,” he says, “You forgot to bring your own lunch.”

“Can you blame me? I was nervous!”

And just as they’re about to start eating, Kouhai-chan re-enters the scene, carrying their drinks. 

“Here you are!” she says, giving both of them a wink.

Souma flushes, but Touya takes a calm sip of his tea, and winks back. 

Talk about a great first date.

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****And so they lived happily ever after.****



 

 

“We’re going to be so cold when we get back to class,” Touya comments as he looks out the window. The snow has stopped falling, but the clouds still hide away the sun. 

Souma pouts as he finishes his hot chocolate. “I don’t wanna go,” he whines, slumping against Touya.

“If we make it to class on time, I’ll make out with you in the home ec class.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Touya laughs right up until he slips and falls down into the snow.

_ Serves him right,  _ Souma thinks as he helps Touya up and sticks out his tongue.

They do make it to class on time, and for once Souma doesn’t mind how cold he is, not when his day can only improve from there. He still has to hold Touya to his promise, after all. 


	2. and on it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touya makes Souma a bento; Souma has the best date of his life to date.
> 
> It's all very sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and heres the actual thing you wanted me to write lol

 

  * **It’s only fair, is the thought that convinces him to do this, this is his love language after all.**



 

 

They’ve taken to exchanging doodles. He’s not embarrassed to admit that he keeps every single drawing Souma gives him,on little folded pieces of paper that should have notes but don’t because neither of them are very good students. 

It’s sweet that Souma takes time to give him these little signs of affection. Art is Touya’s love language, and to have someone else use it with him makes him feel like he’s glowing. 

But he feels guilty, too. 

Souma has been the best boyfriend he could have asked for, always affectionate and loving and honest. He makes Touya little snacks and little drawings and never hesitates to touch him in some way; holding his hand, hooking a foot around his ankle, pressing up against his side. 

Touya does compliment him endlessly, and kiss him every opportunity he has. But it doesn’t feel like enough. 

Souma’s love language is in actions and gifts; he cooks for others to show he cares. 

That’s why Touya is determined to make the perfect bento for their picnic date on the weekend. 

Of course, he’s sure that Souma just thinks they’re going out to eat after going to the aquarium, but Touya can do better than that. 

So here he is, suffering, because he’s never cooked much before. 

 

_ Ingredients: _

 

  * __Pork__


  * _Flour_


  * _Egg, beaten_


  * _Panko_


  * _Salt and Pepper_



 

 

“The best food is make with the soul,” Touya remembers his grandmother saying when he was much younger. “Simply following recipes with no thought of your own is the fastest way to make it bad. Do what you think is right and make everything with love.”

His grandmother taught him many things, but he only remembers a few now. Sure, he can look up the recipes and follow them, but he wants to do this right.

He wants to make this bento with love, pour all the light in his soul into it and give it all to Souma.

_ Steps: _

 

  * __Cut the pork into small but thick slices.__


  * _Salt and pepper both sides of the pork._


  * _Pour flour into a bowl. Take each piece of pork and coat it thoroughly with flour._


  * _Once each pork slice is coated in flour and placed on the foil-lined tray, dump out most of the remaining flour. Leave just a little bit in and mix it with some water._


  * _Add in the egg and mix well. Make sure to break up the egg whites to ensure that it’s evenly mixed._


  * _In another bowl, pour in panko._


  * _Taking one pork slice at a time, coat the pork in the egg mixture, then cover thoroughly with panko. Press down on it as you do so the ensure that the panko sticks. This will make the pork flatten and get bigger, so make sure your tray has enough space._


  * _Once each slice is coated with panko, take a large frying pan and fill with cooking oil. Heat and and add a single panko flake. The oil will be hot enough to make the panko sizzle._


  * _Add a few pork slices in at a time. Flip after a minute and a half or until each side is golden/brown._


  * _Place on a plate with a paper towel to collect excess oil._


  * _Let cool._



 

 

“Oh jeez,” Touya mutters as he drops the pork into the oil, flinching back to avoid being burned. “How the hell does Souma do this? This is giving me anxiety.”

The sound of the pork frying is satisfying though, so he puts in as many as he can. It’s going to be hell flipping them all over and then fishing them out with chopsticks, and he’ll definitely lose a hand, but Souma is worth it. 

Touya really hopes it turns out decent. It doesn’t smell as green as his grandmother’s but it’s close enough that is should probably be fine. 

It turns out that Touya is a very nervous cook; he keeps lifting the pork to see if it’s completely fried on one side and dropping it back down, only to lift it and check again just in case. He worried about burning any of them and rushes to flip them all over, making the oil slosh around in the pan and almost burn him. He keeps adjusting the heat and changing it back, wondering which temperature is correct.

He’s seriously considering praying to his ancestors for help. 

The smell becomes a darker blue, closer to his grandmother’s finished product.

“Aw heck,” he says as he begins to take out fried pieces and place them on the plate, making sure none of the pieces overlap so all the excess oil is caught by the paper towel. 

And the process repeats another two times. 

He may have made too much. It’s fine; Touya’s mother will be glad to have dinner already made when she gets home.

Carefully, Touya begins placing the tonkatsu into the two bento boxes for their date tomorrow. He takes a few minutes to chop up some vegetables to put in besides the tonkatsu and follows it with rice. 

Simple, but made with love. 

Touya’s too scared to try any of the food he made, so he packs it up and waits for tomorrow to come.

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****They go on dates whenever they can just to spend more time together, but this is probably the best date yet.****



 

 

The aquarium is crowded, but that just gives Souma an excuse to hold Touya’s hand. He doesn’t need an excuse, really, but it still makes him feel better. 

Souma can’t help but still be nervous despite all the dates they’ve gone on; this is his first relationship and he loves Touya so much the thought of losing him is almost unbearable. He hasn’t said a word about these thoughts, but the more time he spend with Touya, the more he wants to admit all his anxieties. Communication keeps relationships alive, right?

“I haven’t been here in years,” he tells Touya as they exit the aquarium, blinking at the brightness of the sunlight. 

“Same,” he says, “It was nice going back. I can actually see without any help!”

“I’ll glad you brought us here,” Souma admits, swinging their clasped hands between them. 

Touya grins, boyish and honest, and the flutter in his heart hasn’t gotten any less just because they’ve gotten together. He lets go of Souma’s hand to throw his arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. Souma immediately wraps his arm around Touya’s waist and looks up to him with a smile. 

Ducking his head closer, as though telling a secret, Touya says, “I’m glad I’m with you. I’m glad you came into my life.”

Dear _ god _ he’s so sweet. Souma wants to cry. 

“I like you so much it hurts,” he says, instead. Touya presses a quick kiss to his cheek and pulls him off the road into a park. 

“I need you to remember how much you like me for the next ten minutes, okay?”

“Uh, okay?”

Souma lets himself be lead to the other end of the park. Touya swings down the bag he’s been carrying around all day and sits down, patting the grass next to him to urge Souma to join him. 

Not that he needs much convincing. Sure, he would have prefered to sit on Touya’s lap, but he’s clearly got something planned, so grass it is. 

“So why do I need to keep in mind that I love you?” he asks as Touya pulls out out two wrapped boxes from his bags. 

_ Wait _ .

He stares.

Are those bentos? Souma might actually start sobbing if Touya made him a bento for this already perfect date. 

Touya passes one to him and reaches out to hold his hand. “You’ve been the best thing that’s ever come into my life,” he says, “and I wanted to show how much I loved you. You always draw with me, so I wanted to give you something too. So, I hope I don’t poison you?”

He has to bite his lip to hold back a grin as he opens the bento; inside is tonkatsu, rice, and cabbage and carrots. It’s put together a little messily, but so clearly made with love that Souma thinks it’s the most delicious meal he’s ever seen. It reminds him of home, of his parents laughing at each other’s jokes in the kitchen as they made bentos and swinging him between them as they walked to the local shrine on New Year’s Day. 

It’s love, made into something he could hold. 

Touya shifts nervously besides him. “I know it’s not as put together as other bentos--”

“No, shut up, this is perfect.” 

Souma picks up his chopsticks and pulls a slice of tonkatsu out of the bento. Hyper-aware of Touya’s eyes watching him, Souma bites into it, ducking his head over the bento to avoid spilling any panko onto his lap. 

It takes a moment for him to fully register the taste, but when he does, Souma makes such a pleased noise that Touya flushes and his shoulder.

“Babe,” Souma says as seriously as possible, “I genuinely don’t know how I’ve lived a happy life without your cooking in it.”

“There’s no way it’s that good,” Touya tries to counter.

“Are you kidding me? This taste like a meal from a four star restaurant, not a bento lunch.” He sets aside the bento to take Touya’s face in his hands and pull him closer. “Listen,” he says, “Even if it wasn’t good, which it  _ is _ , I would still love it. Because you took the time to make something for me. And, well. No one’s done that for me before so it really means a lot. Okay?”

Something in Touya settles; the doubt clears from his face. What’s left is something soft and warm, a look for so much love that Souma feels his heart melt.

With gentle hands, Touya reaches up and grabs Souma’s wrists. “Okay,” he says.

And that’s all that needs to be said. 

 

 

 

 

 

  * ****So it goes.****



 

 

They are happy together, happier than they ever thought it could be. But it’s not really “Happily Ever After” is it?

After all, they have the rest of their lives together.

This isn’t an ending. Just a continuation of the love story they write, together.

They walk to the train station, hand in hand. This is where they will have to part for the night, but they’ll see each other at school in the morning. 

“Touya,” Souma says, “Thank you for today.” What he means is:  _ I love you. _

“Of course,” Touya replies and gives him a kiss so sweet it leaves him with weak knees. “Text me when you get home.”  What he means is:  _ I love you too.  _

Between their words, the meaning blooms like an early spring. It isn’t said out loud, but that’s alright; they understand each other, and when the time comes to bring these words out into open air, they’ll be ready.

For now, Touya waves Souma goodbye as he boards his train. 

For now, Souma blows Touya a kiss as the doors close.

For now, they will craft their love with their hands into something physical. This is how artists love, after all.

Between kisses and sketches and bentos and smiles:  _ love. _

**Author's Note:**

> the addition of okinawan food was v self-indulgent lol  
> anyways!  
> daikon: japanese radish. you know, the fat white one?  
> goya: bitter melon found in okinawa  
> champloo: p much stir fried noodles with egg, tofu, and whatever else you want to add  
> gyoza: japanese dumplings


End file.
